


[fic] D.Gray-Man, "Cutting Loose"

by Harukami



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-26
Updated: 2012-01-26
Packaged: 2017-11-05 18:09:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/409432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harukami/pseuds/Harukami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <br/><p>Zazzle told me she wanted Kanda/Alma porn and who am I to argue with her? NOT set in the ridiculous torsoverse because oh good, I <i>can</i> stop myself.</p>
<p><b>Cutting Loose</b><br/>
Kanda/Alma<br/>
Chapter 200 AU<br/>
Not safe for work<br/>
Some xeno warnings...<br/>
Written while listening to <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o7GvY6O9J4w">Lucky</a> on repeat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	[fic] D.Gray-Man, "Cutting Loose"

  
They stay in the sands of Mater for a while, because Alma needs to regrow the rest of his body, and Kanda isn't too healthy either, and neither of their regenerative abilities are at their best. But still their bodies won't give up on them just yet, and slowly it works, muscle and sinew and bone reforming slowly.

In any other situation, Kanda would be embarrassed to be seen like this -- wrapped tight around Alma and refusing to let go, the two of them holding each other so tight and close in each other's arms that they could be mistaken for one awkward uncomfortable statue. The feeling of Alma's grip on him changes as Alma's arms jerkily shift back into their previous shape, loose the dislocated stretch they'd had when the dark matter had exploded in him.

Alma still isn't becoming human, though. His body settles back into the shape it was before -- a pointed ear nestled against Kanda's cheek, a tail budding, slowly reforming as Alma regenerates. Once there's enough of it that Alma can move it, it wraps tight around Kanda's leg, holding on as hard as Alma's arms are. No help for it, Kanda thinks distantly. The shard of akuma egg must have completely dissolved into every cell he had, for the Third Exorcist project to even take affect. There is no more humanity left for Alma Karma.

Eventually, it's done. Still, they hold on.

***

Night falls and finally it's a little absurd to keep clinging like the world will fall apart if they let go, so they tentatively (in case it might, actually, fall apart) separate.

Kanda says, "They'll never let us go."

"They never would," Alma agrees. He puts a finger to Kanda's forehead, draws a finger along it. "Our bodies are their most prized property. Even if they think we're dead, they'll keep hunting for our corpses, to continue the indignities on us."

"Yeah," Kanda says, although that's always been less of a big deal to him than the here and now is. "We'll have to find a way to hide."

Alma says, "I'm a little distinctive, Yuu. And you. You stick in the memory."

"I know," Kanda says, and takes Alma's wrist in his. "Make this a weapon for me."

"Eh?" Alma asks, but does, obedient, unquestioning, gaze fixed on Kanda's face as his arm reshapes around a blade forcing its way free. Anything he decides is fine to Alma, Kanda realizes. He's unsure of the legitimacy of having that much power here.

Deep breath, Kanda thinks. Don't think too much about what you're doing.

He lifts Alma's arm to his own head and cuts his hair off at the nape of his neck.

Alma makes a choked gasp. "Oh, Yuu," he says. "Your hair. It was so pretty, though..."

"I know that, moron," Kanda says, irrationally angry as he lets his hair go, lets the dusty desert air scatter it. "It's my fucking hair, I think I know how gorgeous it was."

"Then--"

"Because they won't look for me with short hair. They know I'd never cut it," Kanda says, and closes his eyes. It's stupid, he thinks, to mourn his hair, to fight against tears welling up inside his eyes. What a fucking idiot I am, he thinks. No going back now, he thinks. "It's the little details that will keep us safe."

***

That doesn't mean they're _actually_ remotely safe, though. They mug some people for their clothes and money, and dress uncomfortably -- Alma in baggy pants he can stuff his tail down one leg of, a handkerchief over his head and ears, a heavy jacket. Kanda wears a sweat-stained shirt and trousers with cuffs a little too short of his ankles. They'll get more later, he thinks. He buys a sword, and uses that in between towns for more money. He also buys makeup, forces Alma (whining the whole time) to put it on his face to cover the akuma markings down his cheeks, the old scar across his nose. It won't be enough if their tail gets picked up, but knowing what towns have the greatest church presence also means knowing what towns have the least and that will help.

***

They get a chance to sleep for the first time three days later, exhausted, only having lasted this long with their struggling regenerative abilities keeping them sound. They get into an inn and Alma strips gratefully, stretching his tail out as if it aches. Kanda doesn't ask. He stares at himself in the mirror over the dresser and still doesn't recognize himself staring back. This short, his jawline is more prominent, but the style itself makes him think of himself as a child. The juxtaposition is confusing. His heart aches somehow.

He tells himself it's exhaustion.

"You should still keep some clothes on in case anyone breaks in during the night."

"I feel gross," Alma says.

"Suck it up," Kanda says.

Alma says, "If anyone breaks in during the night, I doubt they'd get the opportunity to tell anyone about my tail, and I'm going to be under the bed sheets anyway."

Kanda huffs at him, but doesn't argue.

They wash in the washbasin provided for them, using cloths to run over their skin. By the time they're done, it's a horrible sludge brown, with the grease of Alma's makeup adding a disgusting sheen over top. Alma gets into bed first, holds out the sheets.

"Yuu, it's cold," he says.

Kanda looks at him and finds himself flustering. Alma's eyes are painfully soft and heavy, lips curved in a smile that may be mocking everything but Kanda himself. Lotus flowers scatter the bed sheets. Lotus flowers fill the room. Whenever he breathes in these days he can smell them, taste their perfume on his lips. As always, he blocks them out, rewrites what the room must look like without them. Alma lying in bed tired, holding the bed sheet out. Nothing more. It's easier to block things out.

"Yeah," Kanda says, and gets into bed.

***

He usually dreams of her. Tonight is no exception. He dreams the two of them are lying down together in a boat. She's wearing long skirts. They have both taken off their Exorcist coats to put over top of them and provide them warmth.

She curls her fingers against his jaw. "Where do we go from here, though?" she asks.

It's not like either of them is steering. "Wherever the boat takes us," he answers. His voice sounds odd to his own ears. Odder than hers does. Hers is infinitely familiar, completely known.

She laughs helplessly, traces her fingertips over his cheekbones, over his mouth, along his jawline. Over his eyes, which he closes for her to be able to do so. He feels her fingertips ruffle his eyelashes.

Flowers are blossoming in the water around their boat. Even with his eyes closed, he's sure of it. he can smell their fragrance, feel the boat start to bump off them in its free-floating path.

"I love you," she says. "Let's find a way we can live."

He knows how this ends. "This time we can do it," he says. He opens his eyes, finds her crying while she smiles. "I love you," he assures her, urgently. "I love you--"

Kanda wakes with tears running down his cheeks and finds Alma awake beside him, watching him with an uncharacteristically serious expression.

"What? Fuck off," Kanda says.

Alma smiles suddenly, broad, laughing a little as he turns his face into the pillow. "Nightmares?"

"I guess I got used to not sleeping," Kanda says. He starts to get up.

Alma's fingers catch at his wrist. "No," he says. "Please, Yuu. Stay here."

"I'm just going to stretch my legs, you needy bastard."

"It's cold, Yuu. Stay here."

So Kanda stays.

***

It's hot in the morning, though, and he kicks the blankets off irritably. It wakes Alma -- if Alma is actually sleeping; if he actually sleeps any more -- and Alma's eyes open heavily to watch him as he sits up and stretches.

"Where are we going, Yuu?"

It's too soon after waking up for such stupid questions. Kanda glares at him, moves to push his hair back, and remembers too late to stop the gesture that he doesn't have most of it anymore. "What the hell, you have a problem with it now?"

"No problem," Alma says, holding up a hand in assurance. "I just wanted to know if you had an idea in mind."

"Just to disappear. It doesn't have to be forever," Kanda says. "We won't live that long anyway."

"Disappear, huh," Alma says. "I want to."

"Yeah."

"Yuu?"

"Yeah?"

Alma leans up as well, pushes himself up on one hand, and presses his mouth to Kanda's.

For a moment, Kanda doesn't respond. How can he? He's had a thousand dreams of making love to this person with a completely different face, different voice, different shape. Not dreams he'd ever thought about beyond waking up angry with an erection that he'd get rid of as fast as he could. He's mostly thought that love is something that could only exist in visions and dreams and half-grasped memories, lingering feelings and thoughts that belong to his brain more than to his soul, but something is cutting deep into his heart as Alma's mouth moves, dry, on his, and he doesn't want to wither any more. Fuck this, it's all living now. It's all living from now until he dies, he thinks.

He slides a hand into Alma's hair and kisses back.

Alma almost sobs into his mouth and Kanda wonders briefly why that is, what inanity must have been going through Alma's head, but it's not worth asking about so he doesn't. He just kisses, awkwardly and uncertain, not sure what angle to hold his head at, teeth clacking against Alma's as he tries to figure out if he should open his mouth.

"Yuu," Alma says, when Kanda pulls back, and he's crying freely, huge tears rolling down his cheeks, tracking through some makeup he'd missed the night before.

"What?"

"You kissed me."

"No shit." Kanda glares at him.

Alma grabs Kanda's hair in both hands and kisses him again, hard and urgent.

***

They kiss for what Kanda thinks must be hours, though admittedly, something about how hard he is probably makes it hard to accurately assess the time. But it's slow and steady and urgent and undemanding all at once, Alma's arms locked around him, his mouth panting against Kanda's, and Kanda thinks he is going to fucking _murder_ Alma if they don't do more than this, yet actually stopping to do something else seems enormously difficult somehow.

His cheeks are red enough they almost hurt.

"Yuu," Alma breathes between kisses, lost and needy and ecstatic. "Yuu, Yuu..."

"It's my own goddamn name," Kanda breathes back at him, somehow unable to get enough air to say it more firmly. "I'm not going to forget it if you stop saying it all the time."

"You might," Alma says. "Say mine. Say mine, Yuu."

"You demanding--"

Alma tugs at Kanda's hair. "Look at me," he says. "Look at me, say my name--"

"Fine," Kanda grouses, and slides a hand down to touch Alma's groin to get Alma to shut up a little. Good enough reason, he thinks. "Alma. Alma Alma Alma."

" _Oh_ ," Alma says, in a choked little cry, and draws closer.

***

Figuring out Alma's body is a challenge in general; no obvious external genitals here. It's only more of a challenge with the distraction of Alma _touching_ him, fingers spreading across his chest, with Alma leaning in to lick behind his jawline as if he's wanted to for a long time, tongue tracing there, with Alma's tail tracing a slow curling tangled path up the inside of Kanda's leg before yanking it up uncomfortably to drag it against Alma's side.

Kanda swears at him for the manoeuvring but doesn't fight it, grinds when Alma does, can feel Alma's hardness moving under his skin; how does that even work? He doesn't realize he's asked it aloud until he hears Alma laugh, looks up to see Alma blushing.

"Don't even start," Kanda mutters, and slides a hand between them to touch him again, to try to figure it out. His thumb finds what he mistook for a wrinkle in skin but is a slit of some kind instead, pries it open.

" _Ow_ , Yuu!"

"Shut up! You're not making this easy," Kanda hisses at him, but when he rocks up against him this time, thigh of his unbound leg pressing up between Alma's thighs, he feels pressure against that hand, shifts a little to let Alma's dick slide out of that slit.

"This is weird for me too, okay," Alma protests, red-faced, buries his face in Kanda's neck and bites. It shouldn't feel good, not with his teeth akuma-sharp, not on such a defenceless part as his neck, but impossible for it to feel anything _but_. Not with Alma's hand down his pants and fingers curled around his dick, with Alma's hot cock sliding against his thigh --

"Let me get undressed," Kanda protests. "This is the only pair of pants I own."

Alma _whines_ at him but pulls back, tail unwinding, flops back in the bed with his hands over his face, panting into them with need, and Kanda stops and stares down at him for a few moments before he realizes exactly _how_ in danger his pants are, pulls away and yanks them off as fast as he can, flings them off the side as if they have personally offended him.

When he's done, Alma still has his face covered, so Kanda takes advantage of that to touch his nipples with fingertips, slide down again to wrap around his cock again. It's weird. This is all weird. But Alma's peeking through his fingers at him with eyes gone dark with arousal, pupils huge, and Kanda thinks he might come right then just looking at that, and how fucking stupid is that. They're _eyes_.

"Yuu," Alma breathes, and arches his hips.

Whatever, Kanda thinks, _whatever_ , and grabs Alma by the base of his tail to yank him closer, drags him in and over him, lunges up to kiss him and they grab at each other almost like wrestling, shoving at skin and muscle, grabbing at their dicks, biting and kissing and rolling around, trying to pin the other into the bed relentlessly and suddenly it all seems to make so much more sense than just _touching_ did; it makes so much more sense with Alma's teeth buried in one shoulder and his tail almost choking Kanda and his legs scrabbling at Kanda's sides, makes so much more sense with his own free hand almost tearing at Alma's skin, with the wet slide of their sweaty bodies against each other and he pulses and throbs and he pulls Alma's head back by the hair hard as he comes, grinding down furiously against him, vision blurring as he sees droplets of his own blood go flying against the pillow as he rips Alma's teeth free from his shoulder. Alma cries out under him, frantic, scrabbling harder, and he squeezes his hand harder around Alma's dick while he can still barely see for sweat and orgasm and lotus flowers, and Alma cries out again, rough and hard and high and frantic as he comes too, spills wet and hotly over Kanda's fingers, almost burningly hot.

Kanda can't stop swearing as he comes down, like if he gets enough breath to do anything else he'll have to start thinking again and he doesn't want to think about anything yet. Alma relaxes slowly, carefully pries his dick from Kanda's near-deathgrip, loosens his tail from his throat, and wraps all limbs around Kanda, holding on.

***

After, they clean up, and reapply clothes and makeup. Their regeneration is slow, but fast enough the blood and bruises from sex is already vanishing. Still, there's an ache inside. It feels good, though, Kanda thinks. He's so used to aches that feel bad that he doesn't think he could explain it if asked, so he doesn't bother to mention it to Alma at all.

"Yuu?"

"Hn?" He looks up.

Alma holds a hand out to him, smiling, to help him up from where he's sitting on the edge of the bed. It's that wide, aching, beautiful smile Kanda remembers. "Let's go."

"Tch," Kanda says. "I can get up myself."


End file.
